


The Firstborn of the Firstborn

by tehta



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Back to Middle-Earth Month, Cake, Canon Related, Cuiviénen, Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehta/pseuds/tehta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Cuiviénen. The future kings of the Eldar discuss Oromë's invitation. There is cake, and tea.<br/>Very canon-ish, sorry.</p><p> </p><p>This ficlet was based on the following quote from Back To Middle Earth Month 2013:<br/><i>Long they dwelt in their first home by the water under stars, and they walked the Earth in wonder; and they began to make speech and to give names to all things that they perceived. Themselves they named the Quendi, signifying those that speak with voices; for as yet they had met no other living things that spoke or sang.</i></p><p>Also based on my general confusion regarding the Cuivienyarna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Firstborn of the Firstborn

Finwë entered the hut precisely at the appointed time, as always: his talent for keeping track of mundane detail truly was impressive. Ingwë himself had chosen to arrive even earlier than usual, to give himself an opportunity to prepare the tea before the others disrupted his peace of mind.

“I ran into Olwë,” said Finwë, once he had settled down on the other side of the fire-pit. “He told me they would be late, as he is making banana-cake.”

Banana-cake would, of course, clash with the delicate floral tea. “That is most courteous,” said Ingwë. “However, there is no need for him to exert himself so.”

In truth, there was no need for Olwë to exert himself by coming at all, since he was not, technically, a firstborn child. But Ingwë knew that if he insisted on imposing the rule, Olwë’s twin -- but elder -- brother Elwë would have refused to come either, out of fraternal feeling, and then Finwë would have stayed away, too, out of friendship, thus leaving Ingwë all alone. And, while this would have increased the average level of intelligence and refinement of the meeting, it would also have rendered the whole event rather pointless and lonely.

Ingwë sighed in resignation, and began heating the teacups.

“Any casual news?” he asked.

“Well,” said Finwë, “one of Enel’s companions fell into a swamp while collecting frogs. It took half a day to pull him out, which was quite amusing to watch... And, as a result, I thought of a new word. ‘Schadenfreude.’”

This was Finwë’s latest obsession: language, or, more specifically, vocabulary. He had developed a grand passion for naming things, as well as a secondary passion for complaining that the first generation had named all the good objects and ideas, leaving him only increasingly baroque, secondary concepts.

As he was currently demonstrating.

“So, what does ‘Schadenfreude’ signify?” Ingwë asked.

“The specific pleasure derived from another's misfortune.”

“How clever.” Ingwë permitted himself a small smile; the abstraction did please him.

“Ai! Hello!”

Shouted greetings from beyond the walls indicated that Elwë and Olwë had arrived, at last. Ingwë watched them take their places before saying, “I hereby call this meeting of the Firstborn of the Firstborn to order. Let us begin with the customary passing of the the tea... and, I suppose, cake.”

The famed banana-cake was produced, unwrapped, and divided -- with much dropping of crumbs. Ingwë quickly rescued the tea-tray, and waited for the first feeding frenzy to end before saying, “Our topic for today is Oromë’s invitation. What do we think? Should ambassadors be sent? Many distrust or fear him and his kin, but of course we thr-- we four do not.”

“No, he seems very trustworthy,” said Elwë.

“A thoroughly pleasant fellow,” said Olwë.

“At any rate, he has taught us much,” said Finwë.

“Capital! In that case, I shall declare my views first.” Ingwë took a moment to pour himself some tea. “I believe that we should research this opportunity to improve our people’s lot. What is more, I have discussed the matter with Father, and he is entirely in favour of accepting the invitation.”

“Your father plans to go himself?” Olwë seemed genuinely surprised.

“No,” said Ingwë quickly, before anyone could make any comments about Father’s obsessive interest in the immediate area, or his ongoing search for additional, un-awoken Quendi. It was too mortifying. “No, he believes I would make a better representative. But he does agree that Oromë’s homeland is worthy of investigation.”

“Of course he does,” said Finwë. “Who knows how many sleeping Elves might be found there?”

Olwë laughed; Elwë suppressed a smile. Ingwë looked away, and took a restorative sip from his teacup before asking, “What say you, Finwë? Apart from that helpful contribution, I mean?”

“I say: well done, Ingwë! Excellent use of sarcasm! ” said Finwë. Of course, ‘sarcasm’ had been another one of his named concepts, and one he was very proud of. “But, to return to the topic of our meeting, I am afraid my own father disagrees.”

“He said you cannot go?” Olwë asked.

“He said the idea is foolish and likely to lead to death.” Finwë shrugged. “He also said my life and death are my own business. Then he went back to examining his mineral samples.”

“Well, you must go!” said Elwë. “You will enjoy it. Think of all the new unnamed things we might find there.”

“Of course I shall go. I just feel that-- You know, Mother never even looked up! I imagine that if I had a child, I might pay a little more attention.”

His obvious dismay made Ingwë feel a little awkward. And, honestly, Finwë should consider himself lucky: at least he did not have to put up with his father following him around, and muttering odd advice, just because his group of followers was so small that he had nothing better to do. Ingwë sipped his tea, and sighed. 

Elwë sighed, as well. “Do you know what MY parents said?” he asked -- without waiting for his cue. “They said, ‘Oh, sure,  
kids, whatever, if you think it will be fun.’”

“Then,” Olwë added, “they went back to playing the bongos. “Which is why... Well, we think I should stay. To keep an eye on things. And people. There is this fad right now -- licking swamp-toads -- which makes our Companions even less sensible than usual.”

“Good idea,” said Ingwë. Additionally-unsensible Nelyar sounded like quite the handful. “So, in conclusion, the three of us shall go to this strange land, together. Very well. I will give Oromë our answer tomorrow.”

He looked around, expecting nods of agreement -- and got only two. Finwë had not been looking at him, but at the ground by the dismembered cake.

“Yes,” he said suddenly. “Yes, ours is a fine parenterprise.”

“Excuse me?”

“‘Parenterprise.’ Ambition arising out of the complex mixture of embarrassment, hurt and chagrin that is engendered by one’s parents.” 

“Interesting word. Rolls right off the tongue,” said Ingwë sarcastically.

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Imin, Tata, and Emel (and their spouses) were the first Elves to awake. They each claimed various subsequent groups of new Elves as their followers, but Imin tried to be very smart and hold out for a larger group -- which never showed up. Since their factions formed the basis of the Vanyar, Noldor, and Teleri, Imin’s “cunning” is the reason why the Vanyar are the smallest race.
> 
> 1\. Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë/Olwë ended up as the leaders of these three races. Now, Tolkien never says straight out whether those three Awoke, or were born, but at least the last two are described as brothers who married later in life, so they don’t fit in the story from 0. I thought I might make them the original Elves’ firstborn children.
> 
> 2\. As to why they are the leaders, instead of their parents: I started thinking about how many (messed-up) people’s motivation is rooted in their upbringing. The original Elves never had an upbringing to mess them up, and no parents to impress / rebel against. Maybe this is something they were missing...
> 
> 3\. I apologize for the linguistic hodgepodge that forms Finwe’s novel words. I am no linguist, sadly.


End file.
